


Shines Like Silver

by craple



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Pre-Relationship, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2013-06-11
Packaged: 2017-12-14 13:43:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/837543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/craple/pseuds/craple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She lifts her dress and bends her knees not in courtesy but a promise; of what, Aegon is not sure, but of violence and blood shall they betray her and the North along with it, <i>that</i> Aegon is very much sure of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shines Like Silver

**Author's Note:**

> set in the future + slight spoilers for adwd.

-

Dorne's allegiance is not as easy to fix as Aegon has formerly wanted. Although, he supposes, that it is expected of them, seeing that his dear beloved aunt Daenerys _did_ have a hand in the death of their prince Quentyn Martell, one way or another.

He is forced to clean the mess that she left behind, signing a marriage contract with the princess Arianne Martell under the watchful eyes of Connington and the small council.

Well, the choices he has are either her or Margaery Tyrell, and while both are very much comely in their own ways, Aegon would rather keep his head intact and his house secured in the hands of Martells rather than the Tyrells. The latter gives much reason to doubt, that much is sure, especially after the entire Lannister fiasco.

"They are the kind who would switch side the moment opportunity presents itself," Connington had told him, once they are out of hearing range. "They want power as much as the North wants its freedom, only with less simple and noble intentions."

It was also the first time Connington had addressed the matter of the North since a long while. Honestly, Aegon would rather they'd not discuss the North at all – the childish, boyish side of him that never gets the chance to properly grow up, he thinks – but.

Now that both the Martells and the Tyrells have settled down, the Lannisters trying to fix their affairs among themselves with Connington occasionally looming over them (Aegon sympathises with them, he truly does); the North is all there is left to deal with, and Aegon does not think he is going to be ready for the upcoming headache.

"Northerners are not going to be so easy to deal with, My Liege." Tyrion tells him over breakfast. "While I am... relief that you have broken the marriage between me and Sansa, which she undoubtedly is grateful for, the King in the North will not see it as such, I'm afraid."

"What the dwarf is trying to tell you," Connington snaps as he slices the rare meat on his plate to slivers, dipping the piece into a bowl of sauce before swallowing it fast. 

"The North does not have the best relationship with the Iron Throne no matter which family seats it, for more than a few decades now, and it will be far worse than dealing with the Tyrells and the Lannisters." He has never been fond of the spices that Dorne offers, and it makes his words very brittle indeed.

"Not exactly, but that is part of it, yes. The other part is that: I suggest that the court shall be cleared of your dear wife's presence when the Starks arrive. For the sake of my sanity and the court's rather than anything really, but I suspect in this matter Lord Connington agrees with me."

And it turns out that yes, Connington does agree with Tyrion on that matter, and so Aegon sends an invitation to the rebuilding site of the great fortress of Winterfell by raven written by himself after breakfast.

He calls for both Cersei and Jaime to court and asks them of the truth behind Myrcella and Tommen's birth, that should either of them lie both cubs shall be stripped of titles or any claims to Casterly Rock, that they shall be sent away to the wilderness without no one to help.

It is not an empty threat but neither seeis it as such, and Jaime calmly confesses that yes, both of them were born of their incestuous relationship and not of Robert's blood. Connington sends the four of them back to Casterly Rock that very day in quiet, ordering for the guards to slit the throats of anyone who spreads the word, including Varys himself.

At day's end, he sends raven to Dorne addressed to his soon-to-be-wife and barely resists sending another across the Narrow Sea for news of his as of late absent aunt. Truth be told though, it is not Daenerys he is worried about, but the dragons. If there is anything more terrifying than the White Walkers – another Northern problems to deal with – it is a dragon. Imagine what _three_ of them can do, and he will have no more kingdom to rule.

Just as he is about to settle for a good night sleep, a raven perches at the windowsill of his room, bearing the mark of the Stark's direwolf in the middle of a carefully folded leather.

Aegon unlocks the seal and skims over the letter, a blunt short one-sentence statement saying that they agree for a negotiation at King's Landing, and also that _The North Remembers_.

-

The first time Aegon meets Arya Stark is nearly a month later. He is not ashamed to admit that it is definitely lust at first sight, the heat coiling low in his belly at the sight of her in worn-out leather clothes in lieu of silk or armours beating down the knights who were trying to rape a poor young thing of a blonde in one of the hidden alleyways.

Aegon, who is nervous from excitement and fear and mostly terror when Tyrion told him that the Starks are to arrive during lunch, has gone to take a walk through the crowded street of King's Landing early morning.

The path he usually takes under the large brown coal to hide his silver-purple bearings are far too crowded than he'd like, so he followed the smell of freshly baked goods, the sound of an overly excited horse, which led him to her.

Like the rumours have said, Arya Stark is beautiful, but not in the way Aegon has imagined her to be. She is dressed like one would a sellsword, or a scholar with hidden knives up their sleeves. Her eyes are pale and silver and electrifying as they land on him, assessing him silently and without respect, just a mask of careful emptiness that leaves him intrigued.

She has narrow hips and lithe figure, slightly toned and muscular if one were to look _very_ closely, and Aegon is aware that he is staring rudely so at her long legs and her long neck and her unkept dark brown hair, but he cannot tear his eyes away. Besides, she is watching him with the same intensity he uses to watch her. Aegon can't bring himself to feel guilty much.

Four soldiers come running into the alleyway, screaming profanities under their breaths. Arya Stark – he _knows_ she is Arya Stark, he will not be so in lo- _lust_ if she wasn't – does not take her eyes off him as she gets on top of her horse, a large black beast, before sending it galloping toward the way that obviously leads to the palace.

When the soldiers notice him, he sends them on their way, and tells them that is a guest of the North, one they surely did not expect as the news of their arrival just got in less than an hour. Aegon simply smiles.

He does not need to explain anything to these people, Aegon thinks. There is no need to justify Arya Stark of anything when the woman can do it so well herself, can probably kill Aegon in his sleep. A swift sweet death Aegon oft dreams of, except in the hands of an enemy rather than a woman in leather clothes, with silver eyes, with dark brown hair.

Aegon is not his father. Far from it, only similar by looks. Arya Stark, from his first impression toward the woman, comparing it to the stories he's heard of Lyanna Stark, is not her aunt either.

(But they can be, Aegon thinks, and the thought scares him more than anything.)

-

Brandon, Rickon, Sansa, and Arya stride into the throne room with their direwolves in tow.

Aegon does not understand how anyone in the room can be surprised about this. Tyrion is the only one who barely reacts.

"My Lord and Lady Stark," Aegon announces in a loud firm voice, trying very hard not to stare too long at Arya Stark's piercing gaze from where she stands beside her sister, for fear of the others noticing that something is amiss from their King. "I welcome you back to the Capitol."

She has changed her attire completely, Aegon realises. The leather clothing has now been replaced by sapphire silk wrapped so perfectly around her figure, she looks nearly as delicate as her sister, the Queen of Beauty Sansa Stark, in her dress of silver and ivory, looking the very bit of what a Tully woman ought to be. Aegon is mesmerised by how similar Brandon, Rickon, and Sansa Stark are, while Arya is very different from them.

"Come," says Aegon warmly, a charming smile settled in place. "You must be tired and hungry. We have prepared quite the feast for you in the main hall for tonight, I hope you do not mind spicy food and sour Dornish wine. It can be enjoyable after the fifth bottle, of that I can assure you."

-

Halfway through dinner, everyone – or most of them at least – are so drunk they can barely walk straight. Brandon Stark is still at the table, discussing possible political alliance or the like between the North and the Iron Throne once more with Connington, which Aegon very much doubts.

Rickon Stark is very charming throughout dinner, and he is charming still even now, surrounded by a group of people including both Tyrion and Varys in the circle, telling them of a story or facts Aegon isn't sure, his voice sure and smooth like Aegon's own, the voice of a king.

Sansa Stark barely says anything at all between appetizer and the main course, but when it is time for desert, she asks for lemon cakes and that's it. Aegon can see it though, the subtle way she observes anyone through the rim of her wine glass. The brush of her fork against the plate feather-light when she brushes her elbow against her brother's to tell him something Aegon does not know.

Dinner is not tense but it is not comfortable either, at least not fully for Aegon's liking, yet maybe enough to not create another war.

 _This_ probably will though.

Arya Stark has a pair of swollen-kissed lips that reek of wine and a very talented tongue dancing between Aegon's own lips. She is pressing him to the wall, pushing him against it and grinding her hips against his, or he is pressing hers flushed against his own, he doesn't actually know.

All he knows is that her thighs are strong when Aegon turns their position and she wraps them around his waist, that her backside is a bit on the softer side when he kneads them and she moans into his mouth, that her smile is as sharp as her teeth when she moves to whisper filth into his ear and nibbles around his lobe.

He brings them to his chamber and fucks her into the mattress, and after she comes for the second time that night, she rides him hard until Aegon is sure he will literally _die_ if she doesn't let him finish soon, and she laughs and kisses his lips and tells him that he can.

It's the most relaxed he has ever been in years.

(It's the most frightened he has ever been in years; frightened to name the twisted feelings other than lust inside his left ribcage, in his stomach, suffocating him in his chest.)

They are not Rhaegar and Lyanna come-again.

(But they can be.)

-

"And with this, I shall declare the North as an Independent Kingdom of the North and an alliance reformed." Announces Aegon to the world.

It's been over a month, with obviously Connington isn't pleased at the result as Tyrion is, but they have made a promise of alliance even though the North is no longer part of the Seven Kingdoms. At least with this there will be no more pointless bloodshed staining the realm for the hundredth times again.

The Stark siblings bow to him, one by one, but it is only Arya Stark he sees. He leans forward to place a kiss on the back of her hand and hears the sharp inhalation of breath from Connington at his side.

She lifts her dress and bends her knees not in courtesy but a promise; of what, Aegon is not sure, but of violence and blood shall they betray her and the North along with it, _that_ Aegon is very much sure of.

-


End file.
